


Lovely

by dreamingunderthetstars



Category: How to Train Your Dragon (Movies)
Genre: AU, Bullying, Depression, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Gen, HIGHLY OOC, Language, Mentions of Character Death, Modern Era, Original Characters - Freeform, Overprotective Family, Triggers, Verbal Abuse, no dragons sadly
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-24
Updated: 2015-08-10
Packaged: 2018-03-19 04:13:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,363
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3595923
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dreamingunderthetstars/pseuds/dreamingunderthetstars
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hiccup was small, he always knew that, and he bruised easily too. Therefore, the thought of defending himself was laughable. Especially against someone as unpredictable and perplexing as Dagur Berserker.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Summer It Begins

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own How To Train Your Dragon. Copyright goes to Cressida Cowell and DreamWorks. No copyright infringement intended. No money is being made.  
> [Takes place in Hiccup’s P.O.V. First person]

My father always worried about me and so did Gobber, who was my slightly unhinged uncle and fathers’ best friend. I suppose I understand why. I was always too small, too friable. When I was born four months premature, the doctors spoke with whispered pity, stating that even with all the medication and the surgery I had to undergo to fix my undeveloped lungs and other organs, there was a high possibility that I would not survive to see my first Christmas.

“He’s a strong one,” my mother had declared stubbornly. “You just wait and see, my little Hiccup will survive.”

And I did.

Though sometimes I wished I didn’t.

Anyway, there was a multitude of reasons why they worried about me every time I stepped a toe out the front door, even to pick up the newspaper on a Sunday morning. I bruised easily, for one thing. When I was twelve, I slipped on a piece of paper in the living room and clobbered the side of my face on the floor. For a normal human being, it would sting and inevitably hurt but me being, well, _me_ , I woke up the next morning with a swelling bruise the size of a volleyball on the cheek that had slapped against the tiled living room floor.

I was small—there was absolutely no way to sugarcoat it. Standing at five foot one when majority of the males and females of my year stretched and grew into lanky limbs and knobby knees, growing to almost a foot taller...yeah, you get the picture.

My glaringly obvious height problems aside, I was intelligent for my age and held a hidden talent in art. Simply put, I was an artistic nerd.

And because of that, I was a target for towering bullies.

The first time I was picked on was in the first grade by the class bully, a boy named Tristan. He pushed me, hard, against a tree during recess, hidden from the teachers’ view, and as I inhaled a sharp breath from the sudden and unfamiliar pain, he kicked me in the shin.

The pain was blinding. I’d never felt something like it before. Fear gripped me and tears had prickled my eyes.

“You’re so useless, Hiccup,” Tristan teased with an unpleasant snarl on his face. “You’re too smart, like a freak would be.”

His words stung and rubbed at me like salt would a wound.

~~His words were right.~~

~~He was right.~~

_~~Freak...~~ _

Looking back, it was easy to see that Tristan’s words were those of a spiteful and jealous child. Nonetheless, Tristan’s tyranny didn’t end there, behind that tree. He was always a shadow, one step behind me, horrifying. He would steal my erasers and pencils, break my crayons, rip up my homework before class, push me into the ground at recess while mock punching me as I flinched and curled up into a ball every time, hands flying to protect my face, he _would_ punch me most of the time, and chase me before and after school screaming, “I’ll get you, Useless!” with a shaking fist as I desperately ran away, thankful for being nimble and quick on my feet.

Tristan was always nearby, as if his seven-year-old self was obsessed with me.

I managed to hide the harsh extent of Tristan’s first grade cruelty for nearly three months until Christmas reared its’ head and family came driving in packs, crowding the hallways of my home. Even squeezing into tiny hiding spots couldn’t stop my cousins from following and discovering me each time. Being around my family reminded me why I hated being short. Besides the toddlers, I was the tiniest amidst a wave of giant kin. Being six, however, it wasn’t obvious.

Snotlout, the tallest and oldest cousin of my age group, was in the lead to find me, with Heather, Camicazi, and Fishlegs (a family friend) trotting after him.

“Found you,” Snotlout said that Christmas as he crouched down in front of my hiding spot. He peered at me with alarmed eyes once they narrowed in on a yellowish bruise on the side of my hip, since my shirt had ridden up without my knowledge.

“What is _that_?” demanded Heather as she spotted it second. There was a fire burning in her dark orbs.

“N-nothing,” I spluttered once I shook off my shock. I pulled my scratchy red and green striped sweater down. “It’s nothing, Heather.”

“Looks like it hurt,” said Camicazi bluntly, as blunt as a four year old ever could be.

Snotlout turned to Heather and Fishlegs and a look I wasn’t privy to passed over the trio before the two scurried off towards the adults. I remember my stomach had dropped to my feet, my heart jumped in my throat, thudding dangerously, as if it was going to explode.

“Wait,” I yelled. “Don’t tell!”

I scrambled after them, wailing to keep my secret a secret but it was easier said than done. As children in our family, we were told liars never prospered and secrets from parents were intolerable. These were rules we all held on ethereal pedestals that never dared to crumble. Snotlout grabbed me at the waist, a clever decision, to keep me from interfering. I struggled the best I could, squirming so he would release me, but my attempts, like always, were pitiful at best. Even at six, I knew that once Snotlout got into his “older-brother-overprotective” mode, he was a stubborn knucklehead and nothing I would do or say could ever change it. In that particular moment, it was getting him to let me go.

“Mommy!”

Heather got to her parents first with Fishlegs stumbling after. Aunt Asta* looked down at her daughter. “Yes, Heather?” Aunt Asta said before amusement covered her tongue. “You found Hiccup for us?” They made finding me a game for my cousins as they scoured my house, trying to find the newest hiding spot I’d chosen that day.

Heather’s bottom lip trembled and many of the adults and teens looked alarmed at the reaction of such a headstrong girl, who once declared all things pink and pretty and girly were to never be spoken in her presence on her fifth birthday. “I hate pink,” she’d announced. “I like orange better than pink. Pink is stupid.”

“Heather,” my mother said softly but firmly. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s Hiccup, he—”

“NO!” I remember screeching as I kept trying to get out of Snotlout’s grasp and failing hopelessly at it. But Snotlout didn’t have the stamina he had now at seven, so his strong grasp was slipping, little by little. “DON’T TELL!”

“Don’t tell _what_?” asked my mother sharply.

Fishlegs spilled about the bruise and by then I was standing, quivering, in front of them all, face ashen. The embarrassment coiled deeply inside of me, like a great dragon’s tail. The very people I hadn’t wanted to tell simply because I wanted to seem tough and resilient in their eyes were about to unearth the very secret I kept hidden expertly. With shaking fingers, my mother gently lifted up my sweater. Chaos erupted as they saw the fading and fresh bruises made by Tristan and his gang as a Christmas gift. My mother questioned in a sobbing breath who was responsible and, after stern glares and thinly pressed mouths of my elders, reluctantly, I explained.

Tristan and his cronies were expelled. Last I heard, Tristan was in a boarding school for juvenile young men. In other words—military school. Apparently, I wasn’t his first bullying victim. He’d already been expelled from two other elementary schools in the past.

Ever since then, as it dawned on my family how vitreous I was, they were overprotective hawks. More so when Uncle Spitelout, Snotlout, and Aunt Brenna* moved in the extra bedrooms during Spring Break the following year.

Back to the matter at hand. No matter what angle it was placed on, the perspective would always be deemed the same.

I was small.

I was fragile.

I was, and always will be, breakable.

_~~Breakable. Yes. Yes. So, so frail and lovely, and~~ _

And then, the week after my eighth birthday, my mother went to the store one afternoon and never came home.

“There was an accident, I’m afraid,” a police woman spoke to my father that afternoon gently, as if he were a child.

My mother was killed during a robbery.

“I’m having a craving for cookies.” She had said. “Think you’re brave enough to man the fort, my little man?”

“Of course, Mom,” I said, only a little annoyed at being referred to as _little_. “Go get your cookies. Auntie is home, remember?”

“Right,” my mother nodded. “I’ll be right around the corner, okay? I’ll get one of those Oreos that you and Snotlout love so much.”

“Kay,” I mumbled, concentrating on my doodles. “Love you.”

Mum smiles and ruffles my hair. “I love you more, little one.”

And that was that. The last time I saw her, the last time I spoke to her, heard her voice, told her I loved her before, suddenly, she was stolen from the world by the cold tip of a gun. Ever since that dark day, my father grew more intense in his unfathomable desire to keep me safe. In a way, my father was desperate to keep the only living thing that showed Valka Haddock lived an excellent life was to keep me out of harm’s way.

It didn’t always work.

I was naturally curious and ventured out in the surrounding forests to explore and discover with a plastic, fake, Viking helmet slapped onto my head. Sometimes Snotlout trailed after me to make sure I wouldn’t fall over a rock and break my neck. Although, he made those treks less entertaining because he was always saying, “Hiccup, don’t do that” or “Hiccup, you can’t climb trees” or “Hiccup, don’t touch that – there could be germs!” or his favorite one: “Hiccup, I swear if you don’t stop that, I will drag you back home hogtied!”

I gave my father gray hair, I knew that as much.

However, this story begins at the summer of my sophomore year at the local high school, Berk High.

I sighed, running my fingers through my hair, leaning against my bedroom wall. The summer heat blazed and even the multiple fans being turned on weren’t helping the sweltering humidity.

“Hiccup!” I heard my name being called from the hallway. By the slightly foreign accent, I knew it was Heather.

I groaned. “What?”

Heather ambled to my door. “We’ve new neighbors—their son is yummy.”

“I don’t care,” I mumbled against the soft breeze of my mini fan.

Heather rolled her eyes. “Mum says to come help out their move and introduce ourselves. Get up.”

I groaned once more.

Heather laughed and Snotlout bellowed from the front door, “Hiccup!”

“I’m coming!”

I raced Heather down the stairs and out the front door towards the newly sold house across the street.

The first thing I noticed? They were tall—lucky me—but the youngest, who was a white-blonde haired girl, seemed to be around my height. I was thrilled to have someone nearby, that wasn’t a tot or elementary student or a preteen, that didn’t tower over me. The woman had the same hair color as the girl, and she had large green eyes. The two men were ebony-haired and had the same green eyes as the woman and girl.

“Hi,” Heather greeted as she skipped towards them. Camicazi followed silently, her skateboard tucked in her arms. “I’m Heather Olofsson.”

The woman blinked at Heathers’ cheerful exterior before smiling widely. “Hello,” she said kindly. “I’m Kenna* Berserker, this is my daughter, Eira*, my son Dagur, and husband Oswald.”

Eira gave Camicazi and Heather a scowl before grabbing a box and walking into her new home. Dagur and Mr. Berserker gave us a nod. I noticed Dagur’s eyes flickering towards mine, eyes locking for half a minute. It felt intensive, intrusive, and unfathomable. I looked away.

“May we help?” asked Camicazi politely, which was a far cry from the girl who spent her days chugging root beer, boxing, playing video games, and cursing expletives that would make a sailor blush to the tips of his ears.

“Oh, that’d be wonderful,” Mrs. Berserker clapped her hands before she frowned. “I’m sorry, but I didn’t get your names.”

“Oh,” Heather blinked before smiling sheepishly. “These are my cousins—Camicazi, Snotlout, and Hiccup. We – well, Hiccup and Snotlout, live across the street.”

I gave my new neighbor an awkward wave. Mr. Berserker set us up with boxes right as Eira came swinging out of the garage only to frown deeply, grab another box, and disappear once more. Her blonde hair swinging behind her in its ponytail. “Ignore her,” Dagur said, irritated. “She’s sour at the move since it’s her freshman year.”

“What grade are you in?” Heather questioned as we all walked through the garage door leading into the kitchen, carrying boxes. Insistently, Snotlout made sure I carried the lightest box available. I made my displeasure known by sticking my tongue out at him behind his back. Dagur caught it and shot me a wide grin. I looked towards the back of Snotlout’s head. I noticed Cami staring at Dagur with narrowed eyes and pursed lips.

“I’m a junior.”

Snotlout’s head jerked up. “Really? Same here.”

Once all the boxes were put away and I made my escape to my room, I breathed out a sigh and laid on my cold sheets on my bed, which were a relief against my heated skin. I could hear my cousins and the new kid joking around as their voices floated through my opened window.

“Mind if I join?”

I looked up to see Camicazi standing in front of my bed. I shrugged at her, which she took as an invitation before lying down next to me. We laid in complete silence except for the echoes from the outside.

“I don’t like him,” Cami says into the silence.

“Who?”

She rolled onto her side and gave me a look. “That Draco boy—”

“Dagur,” I corrected softly.

Cami rolled her eyes. “Whatever. I don’t like him, not one bit.”

“Why not?” I inquired as I propped myself up on my elbows.

Cami shrugged. “He gives me a bad vibe.” Cami looked at me, solemn, serious. “Be careful around him, alright?”

I knew Cami thought that I wouldn’t be able to protect myself against someone like Dagur, and it hurt my ego a bit at the thought. Even though I knew it was true ~~. _It was dark. The floor was cold. The air was suffocating as fingers danced against my bare skin. Get off, my mind screams but no sound escapes my lips except for muffles. Stop. Please. Stop._~~ My own twelve-year-old cousin thought I was too defenseless, too frail. Snotlout and Heather, I could handle. Snotlout was on the football team and tackled boys much larger than him, and Heather took karate and judo lessons since she was a small child. I sighed but nodded.

We fell back into our own worlds.

“Hey, Dagur,” I heard Heather burst, her voice getting closer to the house. It was a bit breathless. “Want to come over?”

“Yeah, take a break from all the unpacking,” added Snotlout.

Aunt Asta bellowed something from the kitchen, probably asking about what we wanted to eat for dinner or scolding Gobber for drinking all of the beer.

Dagur agreed.

Cami hissed out a curse.

I sighed at the heat that filtered into my room once more.

And life with Dagur Berserker began.


	2. Camicazi: Rootbeer Lover and Overprotective Lioness - er, Cousin.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “It must be nice,” Eira’s soft voice drifted to my ears. I turned to her. She gave me a sad smile. “To have a family so overprotective and loving.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own How To Train Your Dragon. Copyright goes to Cressida Cowell and DreamWorks. No copyright infringement intended. No money is being made.
> 
> Warnings: AU, modern era, language, violence, mentions of character death, depression, emotional and mental and verbal abuse [at certain parts of the story], OOC-ness
> 
> [Takes place in Hiccup’s P.O.V. First person]

_Chapter Two_

The first thing I noticed when I walked down the stairs two weeks after the Berserker family moved in was the front door being wide open. I grumbled as I moved to close it, since it wasn’t the first time Snotlout and Heather left the house hastily to hang out with Dagur and the twin terrors, Ruffnut and Tuffnut Thorston, and leaving the door open.

“If a burglar enters the house because of their idiocy, I’m going to put one of them in the hospital,” I mumbled once it was shut and I started my trek into the kitchen where I could properly wake up after a cup or three of hot coffee.

I paused as I walked into the kitchen, seeing someone I hadn’t expected to sitting on the island counter as Cami poured herself a mug of root beer. “Here,” Cami said, sliding a mug towards me. It was steaming. “I made you your morning beverage.”

I hummed as I wrapped my hands around the scorching mug before taking a gulp and sighing happily as the scalding liquid slithered down my throat.

“Hi,” greeted Eira. “Mind if I crash at your place?”

I muttered something incoherent underneath my breath before inhaling two more gulps of coffee.

“I know why you’re so short,” Cami declared as-matter-of-factly. “It’s because you drink so much fucking coffee. It’s stunting your bloody growth, fishbone. For fucks sake, Hiccup, have some root beer!”

Cami always tried to coax me to join her little island of root beer fanatics, before cursing coffee and announcing it to be the main reason why I was so small. Coffee wasn’t the number one problem. The doctor even said that I would never grow taller than my height now, because of my premature birth. It sucked but I had no choice but to deal with it.

Eira snorted. “You are too obsessed with this damn beverage.”

Cami narrowed her eyes and growled, “What are you trying to say?”

Eira rolled her eyes and took a bite out of the apple in her hands. I sighed and inhaled more of the delicious caffeine. “Where is Auntie?” I asked.

“Shopping with my mum and Auntie Asta,” Cami responded.

“Who’s watching us?”

Cami frowned. “Snotlout and his pig-headed self.”

I looked up, blinking. “Dad isn’t going to like that.”

Cami’s frown spread into an impish grin. “Especially when he finds out Snotty left his dear, ickle, precious cousin’s home alone – specifically he left _Hiccup_ alone with only a twelve-year old and a fourteen-year old as protectors.”

Eira smirked. “I knew there was a reason why I liked you.”

Cami snorted this time before taking another slurp of root beer. I opened my mouth to speak but the front door was shoved open and thudding footsteps trampled inside of the house.

“Hey squirt,” Heather cajoled as she walked into the kitchen.

I blinked at what she wore—ripped jean shorts, a cropped, one-shoulder tee shirt, and a neon blue bra. And the only reason why I knew what her bra color was is because I could see it. Everyone within a five-mile radius could. Cami made a face and mimicked herself retching. Eira looked down at her apple and took another bite. I swallowed another gulp, wishing it was something stronger.

_“C’mon, Hiccup, a little taste wouldn’t kill you.”_

_I stare. He blinks and smiles, holding out the bottle as if to dare me to step out of the metaphorical suffocating box I’ve been stuffed into my entire life._

“G'morning,” I muttered.

Heather gave me a look as she opened the fridge. “Hic, it’s three in the afternoon.”

“That’s too early,” I moaned into my coffee.

Cami and Eira laughed at my exasperation. Heather chuckled as she grabbed five cans out of the fridge.

Cami’s eyes widened as she saw what it was. “Heather!” Cami scolded. “We’re not allowed to touch Gobbers’ alcohol!”

“We aren’t even legal,” said Eira quietly.

I blinked. Since when was Heather willing to risk an adults’ wrath by drinking? Heather scoffed, “Gosh, I forgot how _little_ you guys are.” A smirk crossed her lips. Cami was gaping at the insult. I was too shocked to speak, I mean, it was normally _me_ who was the butt of all the short jokes! “Honestly, Cami, you can’t drink root beer forever. That’s for kids.”

“So drinking makes you an adult?” asked Cami, a disgusted look covering her eyes.

_“Some would say alcohol is a rite of passage into adulthood,” he says. He’s touching my arm, drawing circles with his fingers. I shudder. I don’t want to be touched. He needs to stop. But I say nothing because I know that it will only get worse (always, always be worse in the end) if I dare to disagree. “I disagree. Do you want to know why?”_

_I don’t respond. It’s much better, safer, that way. Staying silent. I’m pushed onto my back. The bed creaks slightly. The sheets are cold. I stare into his dark eyes. Fear gnaws on me like I’m a snack. I brace myself. His mouth hovers over mine. I try my best not to show my revulsion. I don’t want this. I don’t want this. Get off of me. Get off of me._

_“I think I’ll show you instead, my lovely.”_

Heather rolled her eyes as she said, “Of _course_ it does. If you need any of us, we’ll be in Snotlout’s room.” And then she swung her way out of the kitchen and up the stairs, her steps thudding against the wood. We heard other footsteps and boisterous voices soon follow.

Cami swirled around to look at me. “Did that just happen?”

I sighed, peering down into my mug, and mumbled, “It is way too early for this.”

“You can say that again,” snorted Eira.

I chugged down the rest of my coffee and said, “Don’t look so heartbroken, Cami, you know I can’t handle it when you look like that.” A ghost of a smile fluttered over Cami’s lips and I continued, “Why don’t we head out and do something?”

“Do what?” Eira asked. “It’s so boring in this small town.”

“Well, I haven’t seen Astrid in a long time.” Cami mused. “How is she?”

“She’s at a soccer camp,” I told her. “She won’t be back until next Saturday.”

Camicazi pouted adorably before huffing, griping her root beer bottle. Her sea-blue eyes narrowed as if she remembered something, suddenly. “I don’t like your brother, Eira,” said Cami.

Eira smiled and laughed, “Join the club.” She threw away her apple and opened the fridge, staring at our beverage choices. “Er…do you mind if I grab a Sprite?”

“Don’t care so long as it isn’t my coffee,” I told her as I placed my mug in the sink. “Well, we could always walk around town, go into the mall we have.”

Cami wrinkled her nose. “There’re people there, though.”

“Well,” I said, “We do live on planet Earth, Cami. Welcome to the world of the living, cousin-mine.”

Laughing, I dodged her playful lunging fist and walked up to my room for my satchel of art supplies that I never left home without – you never know when the inspiration hits you, you know? There was a reason why my father instilled it in me to always be prepared for the worst, ever since I could crawl. Though it was a reason I still didn’t understand quite yet. Humming to the song “Art Of War” by We The Kings, I made my to Snotlout’s room, knowing he’d freak out if I ever left the house without telling him.

_‘Cause I’m a soldier, ‘till it’s over_

_You and I fighting for the art of war_

_I’m a soldier, up against the wall_

I knocked on the door and a burst of laughter echoed throughout Snotlout’s room before I heard a muffled, “Tuff, open the door.” The door was opened and I was faced with the familiar towering, lean body of the soccer captain – Tuffnut Thorston looked down at me. “Oh,” he said, “It’s just Hiccup.”

“Hey, Tuff,” I greeted before I tried (read: failed) to peer around him. “Is Snotlout there?”

“Oi!” Tuffnut yelped when Snotlout jabbed him at his side as a means to push him over to the side when he walked to the doorway. There was a beer can in his hands. Even though he was only seventeen, Snotlout easily reached around six feet. “Hey, Hic. What’s up?” asked my cousin.

I blinked at him. “Cami, Eira, and I are leaving.”

Snotlout frowned. I braced myself for the negative response that always followed whenever Snotlout was involved. “What? Why? No.”

I rolled my eyes. “Snotlout, you didn’t—,”

“No.”

“But you—,”

“What did I say? _No_ , Hiccup.”

I really hated how Snotlout’s stern looks and tone could make me feel like a small child about to get sent into a corner or got caught with their hand in the cookie jar. I clenched my jaw, setting it, and I noticed that Snotlout was preparing himself for the stubbornness that is me. However, the smothering glare Snotlout was giving me as he stared me down made me remember a boy a year older than me, doing the same thing. I blinked, though, pushing those memories away from the front of my mind. It wasn’t safe to remember that – remember _him_.

“Fine,” I mumbled and spun on my heel, walking down the hall and back towards Eira and Cami. They looked at me as I came into the kitchen, frowning. “He said no.”

Immediately, Cami groaned and dropped her head onto the island counter, muttering curses underneath her breath before she got up, furious, and angrily rummaged for another root beer bottle. Eira blinked at the both of us. “Why’d we have to listen to – to Snotty, anyway?”

I smirked a little at the nickname and responded, “When there isn’t an adult home, his word is law.”

Eira raised an eyebrow at that. “Ever heard of teenage rebellion?”

I stared at her. Cami paused as she was raising the bottle to her lips. There was a glint twinkling in her eyes. I knew that glint perfectly well. “No,” I said.

“Hiccup,” Cami and Eira both whined.

“No.”

“Come on,” pouted Camicazi. “You never even _try_ to go against Snotty or anyone really once they tell you no. What happened to the little rebellious spitfire that went trekking in the forests that I’ve come to love?”

_That Hiccup is long gone, Cams…you haven’t been to Berk in a while._

I looked away and counted the number of tiles I saw. It was giving me a small sliver of control over my thoughts. I couldn’t let them overwhelm me. Not here. Not now.

_12….13…15…_

“Please?” Cami and Eira are in front of me, pouting, and their eyes wide. For added effect, it seemed, Cami had tears in her eyes. I groaned and rubbed my face.

“You’re really trying to get me into trouble, aren’t you?” I asked them dryly.

Beaming smiles stretched over their lips were the girls’ only response.

 

* * *

 

Eira and Cami giggled as I led them to one of my secret coves on Berk. I grumbled underneath my breath, mentally preparing myself for the shouting match that would surely occur once Snotlout figured out we were no longer home – and when the adults were told. I wanted to have a peaceful summer, my most peaceful one since _he_ was here but I shook my head. Now wasn’t the time. I could get submersed in my nightmare of memories later, in the dark, where it was just me and the walls of my room.

“It’s beautiful,” murmured Eira. Cami nodded as I carefully led them down the rocky slope and into the cove, where a blue crystal lake gently flowed along the sandy shoreline. There were small hills in the alcove. It was a wonderful getaway. A safe haven.

“Make yourselves at home,” I told them before fixing one of my stern stares on their physiques. “Don’t tell anyone about this – this is my safe haven.”

“Got it,” nodded Camicazi. “I’m only here during the summer and holidays so – you won’t be hearing a peep outta me!”

Eira snorted lightly. “You two are the only people I really know.” Eira made herself comfortable on the grass. Cami sat on a rock. I sat down as well. There was a comforting silence whirling around us along with the summer wind of Berk. I was just happy it wasn’t raining.

The shrill screech of my phone interrupted the silence in the air. I grumbled and answered, already knowing who it was. “Hello?”

“Hiccup!” yelled Snotlout. “I can’t believe you left!”

I winced at how furious Snotlout sounded. I hated it when people yelled.

_“Do you think I like doing this, Hiccup?” he shouts. I shrink back into myself, thinking, stop screaming, stop screaming. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. “Do you think I find this entertaining? Funny?”_

_Yes. No. No. Always no._

_I’m sorry._

_I’m sorry._

_“I’m sorry,” I whisper._

_He stares at me. His dark eyes are so cold. The floor is so cold. I feel so cold. Is that my life slipping away? A premonition that I’m about to die?_

_I’m sorry._

_I’m sorry._

“You’re damn lucky I haven’t called Uncle Stoick – he put me in charge for a reason. Now, where are you?”

I chewed on my bottom lip, staring at the two girls who were basking in the sunlight, smiling contently. I sighed, rubbing my forehead. “I’m somewhere,” I said.

There was a slight pause in silence before Snotlout growled out, “ _Hiccup_.”

I gulped and winced. “Sorry,” I murmured.

“Come back home,” he ordered briskly.

Once again, I looked over at Cami and Eira. I saw how peaceful they looked as they splashed in the shallows of the lake. Their peals of laughter reached my ears. I sighed and rubbed my forehead, inwardly groaning at what I was about to do. Bloody cousins and their best friend/neighbor.

“No.” I said after taking a large gulp of air. It felt so good to say no to someone again.

_“Did you just say no?” he whispers. He’s right next to me. I’m shaking. I can’t stop._

_Snotlout, you promised me you’d always be there to protect me, save me from the big bad wolf. Where are you now?_

_“Answer me, Hiccup.”_

_The pain is blinding, a white haze flashing across my eyes. I can’t breathe. I can’t speak. Oh, Odin, someone save me. Help me._

_“I said yes,” I lie._

_He laughs coldly. “I know you didn’t but I appreciate the effort.” He leans in. The pain intensifies and I can’t help releasing the whimpers of agony from my mouth._

_“However, my little Hiccup, you know the penalty for lying – and saying no.”_

“Excuse me?” Snotlout replied, a little shocked. I’d be shocked too, since for the past couple of months I barely disagreed or disobeyed anyone. “Did you just tell me _no_?”

“Yes.” I squeaked.

There were muffled sounds in the background and I heard Heather say, “Snotlout, leave the kid alone. Remember when we were his age? Teenage rebellion and all that. Get a grip and get off of that high horse. They’re fine.”

Even though I was a forest away, I already knew Snotlout was grinding his teeth. “Fine. Just make sure you’re home before dark. Understood?”

“Crystal clear,” I managed to choke out.

“Love you, squirt.”

“Love you, too.”

Snotlout hung up the phone and I released a breath of air I wasn’t aware of holding in. The girls were looking at me. “You alright?” called Eira.

I nodded and walked to them. “Yeah. Snotlout called.”

Cami’s face dropped. “We have to go back, don’t we? Well, it was fun while it lasted.”

“Actually, he said for us to make sure to be back home before dark.” I said, stopping them from walking back home.

Cami paused, turning to me. “Snotty? He said that? Are you sure he wasn’t drunk?”

I snorted. “Even drunk, when it comes to me, Snotlout is on high alert. Heather talked sense into him, said something about teenage rebellion.”

Eira snickered. “Well, since we were given the all clear, what do you guys want to do now? Relax?”

Cami shrugged. “Why not.”

“I’m going to sketch a bit,” I told them before walking towards a large rock a few feet away from the shoreline. The girls were in my line of sight and I was in theirs. I gave them their privacy whilst retaining mine still. I got out my sketchbook and charcoal pencil, turning to an empty page, before thinking and searching for something inspiring.

I ended up drawing and sketching random things that were swirling through my mind. I could faintly hear the girls chatting to one another about some band called _We Are The In Crowd_. I sighed but my phone buzzed once more and I blinked, looking down at the text message.

**Fishlegs**

_Hey Hiccup! I’m coming into town for a visit soon, like a week or two. Don’t tell anyone, I want it to be a surprise, ok?_

I smiled warmly. Fishlegs was a family friend though he was like a brother to us all. He was quiet and reserved and a little bit of a nerd when it came to fantasy, science fiction, and video games. He was the kind of friend who was always there for you, who would listen to your woes over a tub of ice cream over the phone or Skype – goodness knows that’s what I did when I felt like I couldn’t turn to anyone else. But Fishlegs never judged me for my tears or blubbered truths. He sat there calmly and while he did get frustrated many times with me since I was stubborn and wouldn’t tell anyone what was going on. I still hadn’t told anyone.

Maybe I was too afraid.

Maybe I was just a coward – maybe I still am one.

“Hiccup!” Cami calls my name, jolting me out of my thoughts.

“Yeah?” I asked them, closing my book.

“We’re getting hungry,” Eira said. “I haven’t really been in town much so what’s there to eat in this lovely place?”

I chuckled at her sarcastic tone towards the end before I thought about it. “Well,” I started. “There’s Gobber’s Forge in the plaza, one iHop, a Denny’s, and a small diner called _Scauldron’s_. I suggest Scauldron’s because Gobber’s Forge is always packed, especially during lunch time. Scauldron’s recently opened a year ago but since it doesn’t have much history, not a lot of people go there.”

“Sounds legit,” Cami said.

“Let’s give it a try!” Eira smiled before standing, dusting herself off and slipping on her shoes. “Have you been there before, Hiccup?”

I nodded. “I go there all the time – I’m a regular, now. It’s not that far a walk from here, actually. Just follow me, okay?”

“Yes, sir!” Cami smirked, saluting me.

The girls followed me as I led them through the town towards the little plaza Berk had in the middle of the town. It held all of the shopping centers, a little book store, a crafts store, and all of the diners and such. Scauldron’s was a quaint little diner, the exterior painted a pale, calming green. Inside, the color scheme was a dark silver and a forest green, which made many of the customers joke about the owners being Slytherin fans from Harry Potter.

The girl manning the fort was a close friend of mine, a fellow nerd as well. Sarabelle was her name but she was adoringly called Stormfly by those that she was close to. She was wearing a uniform of a dark green blouse, silver pencil skirt, and green flats. Stormfly pale blonde hair, almost white, and she had multicolored highlights.

“Morning Stormfly,” I greeted cheerfully once I entered.

Stormfly grinned at me. “It’s the afternoon, Hic. Table for three?” she asked, taking note of the two girls behind me.

I nodded and Stormfly grabbed three little menus and led us to a comfortable booth sequestered in a corner. It was a booth I frequented many a times during the year.

“This place is rocking,” Cami grinned before looking down at the menu. “Ooh, they have Shepard’s Pie!”

Stormfly came through a swinging door, a light scowl on her face that disappeared into a cheery smile once she approached our table. “Welcome to Scauldron’s,” she said, holding a little notepad and green pen. “What would you like to drink today?”

“Water,” I said.

“Root beer, please.” Cami ordered.

Eira glanced down at the menu. “I would like some sprite, please.”

Stormfly jotted down our drinks. “Alright, I’ll get you your beverages as soon as possible.” She fluttered away practically, going to the tables that were filled. The atmosphere at Scauldron’s was calming, unlike the Forge which was hectic in its own right.

“Do you recommend anything, Hiccup?” Eira asked as she took note that I hadn’t opened my menu.

“I get the chicken BLT,” I said. “Though I do recommend their burgers and wings. It’s like heaven.”

“I’ll try their special,” Cami said. “Looks nice enough.”

We all chatted amiably as we waited for our drinks. I learned that Cami was accepted into a high class boarding school for the arts back in California, and that Eira was a closeted bookworm and genius (“Good, you’ll fit right in with the family,” Cami declared once that fact had been known. “We’re all mini prodigies in this family, though I dunno why”). She got bullied at her old school for her smarts so she forced herself to dumb down until her family moved.

“Why’d you move?” I asked. “If you don’t mind me asking.”

Eira chewed on her bottom lip but Stormfly swept by with our beverages before she could continue. We placed our orders and Stormfly moved towards another table that called to her attention. I wondered, briefly, where all the other waiters and waitresses were.

Eira breathed in deeply. “We moved because of my dad’s new job. He’s a forensic scientist and, apparently, Berk had the best deal around monetary wise.”

“That’s the official reason,” Cami said observantly.

Eira looked down at her soda. “I’m not ready to explain the unofficial reason just yet.”

“That’s fine,” I said knowingly. “You don’t have to tell us everything.”

“Are people nice here?” Eira asked nervously.

Cami shrugged.

“Most of them,” I said, remembering my fair share of bullies that still lurked the hallways of Berk High. “I won’t lie to you and say that Berk high is a sanctuary of some sort. The administration have been cracking down on the bullying and harassment but seeing as how I still get tortured, they have a lot more work to do.”

Cami was indignant, affronted, as she hissed, “What? What do you mean tortured?” she was strung up, as if she were a metaphorical cat and someone had stepped on her tail. Then again, given the overprotective tendencies of my family…it was no surprise. Eira blinked, shocked at Cami’s response.

I rolled my eyes. “You’re overreacting—,”

“Overreact – does Snotlout even know?” Cami interrogated. Her eyes were flaming, similar to her mothers’ (my aunt Bertha) whenever a family member was in some sort of trouble. “The twins? Astrid? Uncle Stoic?”

“No. No. Yes. And no,” I answered.

Skittishly, Eira’s eyes flickered back and forth between my cousin and me.

“Has Astrid done anything to help?” Cami asked, tense, coiled to spring should it be revealed that a childhood best friend did nothing to protect me.

I sighed. I hated it whenever my family got overprotective. Honestly. I wasn’t _glass._

_He grips my hand tightly. “You’re like glass, Hiccup,” he murmurs against my shivering skin. I hate this. He needs to stop. Why can’t anyone hear my mental screams? His fingers dance against my clothes, my wrists, my arms. I shudder. “Breakable, shattering at a simple touch. So fragile, my lovely, such a delicate little thing.”_

“Yes,” I said. “She tries her best. She gets targeted as well.”

Cami drew herself up even more, like a lioness defending her injured cubs. “What?” she snarled over the table. “Astrid gets _what?!”_

People were starting to stare at our booth. Eira shifted nervously. “U-um…c-calm down…y-you’re making a scene, Cami.”

“I want names, Hiccup Horrendous,” Cami demanded just short of slamming her hands down on the table to drive the point. “Names. Addresses. Date of birth. _Now_.”

“Everything alright?” Stormfly asked as she saved the day, bearing our food. She looked at me, concern in her eyes.

Cami smiled sweetly at Stormfly. I resisted a groan – I knew what that smile meant: trouble and manipulation.

“Hi, Stormfly,” Cami said. “You know Astrid Hofferson, right?”

Stormfly gave a hesitant nod, throwing an alarmed looked in my direction. Mournfully, I gulped my water. There goes my peaceful summer.

“Do you know of anyone that bothers her?” Cami asked innocently.

Stormfly’s eyes went slightly wide but she nodded nonetheless. Astrid was not going to be pleased when she got back from camp. “Mostly,” Stormfly began, “It’s the boys from the sports teams. Astrid is the only girl on the soccer team so she gets judged because of that. The cheerleaders give her a rough time too.”

“Those bitches,” Cami steamed.

Eira shrunk in her seat as some of the older patrons gave Cami alarmed and disapproving eyes.

“And who bothers Hiccup?” Cami interrogated, quite ruthlessly.

Stormfly turned to me, then. “You haven’t _told them_?” she said, incredulously.

“Told us what?” Cami questioned. If this were a cartoon, my dear cousin would have steam blowing out of her ears. “Told me what?”

I gave pleading eyes at Stormfly, who sighed. “I’m afraid that isn’t my story to tell,” Stormfly murmured. She gave me a soft smile. “Hiccup will let you know when he’s ready.”

An old woman I knew to be Mrs. Bellini from down the street called Stormfly’s attention. Cami turned to me, her eyes hard and unyielding.

“Can we eat now?” I asked softly. I was getting exhausted by the energy put in against Cami’s inquisition. Eira gave me an encouraging look.

“This isn’t over,” Cami said shortly.

I nodded as I took a bite out of my sandwich. I knew Cami wasn’t going to let it go. The problem, however, was if she was going to tell the rest of the family or not. I didn’t think I was ready for that sort of war that would rage in my household. The walk back to my house was silent, filled with Cami’s shrewd eyes and Eira’s pensiveness. I was trying my best not to drown in the memories of a past I’d rather forget. The wind blew, dancing against our clothes and hair, a song and dance we humans weren’t privy to. Once we reached my street, Snotlout, Heather, the twins, and Dagur were lounging on the front yard. The girls were sitting on the front steps of the porch, giggling, as the boys threw around a football.

I could hear an old song playing from the opened windows of the kitchen and my aunts’ voices as they sang along, Gobber chipping in with a cracked voice. Little children played in their yards and such, their peals of laughter like music to my ears. All background noise. All comforting.

Cami’s jaw was fixed. She had that look in her eyes that spelled trouble for me. She stormed forward, determined.

“It must be nice,” Eira’s soft voice drifted to my ears. I turned to her. She gave me a sad smile. “To have a family so overprotective and loving.”

“Does your family not care?” I asked. I was familiar with the concept though, thank Odin, I hadn’t experienced it.

“I like to amuse myself, thinking that they do,” Eira whispered. “I find it hard to believe, now-a-days. I don’t talk to them as much and they’re so fretful over Dagur that I just fade into the background. It’s okay. I’ve gotten used to suffering on my own.”

“You don’t have to,” I found myself saying. I knew all too well how she felt. All alone in a crowded room. “I’m your friend now. There’s no need to suffer by yourself anymore.”

Eira gave me a blinding smile.

The moment, however, was shattered by Snotlout practically roaring like a nesting dragoness.

“HICCUP – WHAT IS THIS ABOUT YOU BEING BULLIED?!?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This isn’t Beta’d, sadly, so I’m sorry for mistakes. The song lyrics in this chapter is ART OF WAR – WE THE KINGS. I apologize for how long I took with this chapter. Thanks for the reviews on chapter one, and all the kudos! You are all dolls!

**Author's Note:**

> Asta = divine beauty [Old Norse]  
> Brenna = sword [Old Norse]  
> Eira = light, springy, merciful [Old Norse]  
> Kenna = pretty woman [Old Norse]


End file.
